Wounded
by CutewithAcapital-Q
Summary: Missing Moment Between Ron and Hermione at Shell Cottage, just after Malfoy Manor. Inspired by Third Eye Blind's song, "Wounded" and posted in honour of Hermione's Birthday Sept 19th 1979.


Happy Birthday Hermione! Something about character birthdays and my postings, apparently this has become a thing with me so I think I'm just going to stick with it. Not like I only write when a birthday is coming up but something about these times of the year I end up writing more than usual and as result post in the region of time containing somebody's special day.

So this is a story I've been sitting on for quite some time, and am extremely pleased to finally post it for all you lovely people. I got the idea partially from a song I love called Wounded and it is by Third Eye Blind. If you know the song you'll see how I incorporated some of the lyrics into the story line, and the melody into the imagery, especially in the first few sentences.

It takes place in the seventh book just after the incident at Malfoy Manor.

Ron's and partially Hermione's POV.

You know, every day I wake up and run to the mirror to see if I am the multi-billionaire writing phenomenon that is JK Rowling and everyday I am disappointed to find I am still just me, and so I do not own very much of this story, or any of the characters in it.

I do not christen this story perfect. I guess all my work on this site is by no means perfect but in this particular case I'm posting this story written from my head to the word document to the site and onto your computer screen. Preferably i would have liked a beta to check my work over but since I don't post as often I don't really want to bother anybody to ask them to look over my work once in a blue moon. (Ironically the reason I don't post too much anymore is because i lost my usual Beta...of course that's a very different story) All of this adds up to the fact that no story is complete without feedback. So all comments, reviews and suggestions are welcome.

Wounded

The tight sensation prickled Ron's open cuts, like a stinging chime of bells. He kept his mind firmly set on his destination just like she used to instruct him, but it was hard not to drift his attention to the low, feeble vibration of her heart pushing against his chest. He let out a breath as his tattered trainers touched down on grass, and without missing a beat ran straight into the lightening darkness of the front yard of his brother's cottage. As he approached lamps lit and the front door opened revealing the weary occupants. Ron kept on running straight up to the threshold. Ignoring Bill's confused and furious demands he made direct eye contact with Fleur, who turned on her heels and fell in line with Ron towards the stairs.

Distantly, Ron heard Harry screaming for help, and heart wrenching anxiety filled him. He held the petite and broken girl even closer and more secure. Jaw clenched, he kept going right on into guest room and placed his parcel carefully on the bed. He stepped back curtly, and looked to Fleur, who asked what happened as she examined the patient. With bile rising in his guts, he explained the injuries without revealing too much of what actually happened. She turned her gaze on him, and they stared expectantly at one another, the blonde woman finally made a sharp shooing gesture and he got the hint, but he was reluctant to leave none the less.

In the hall, Ron's long strides made pacing barely more then a step and a pivot. He resolved to grab the door frame, and leaned furiously over the threshold, willing it to open. He was caught completely of guard when the bolt finally did click and was nose to nose with his brother's wife. Fleur lifted a rag to his cheek to begin mending him, but he grunted a refusal and pushed his way back into the room and to the bed side. A voice unlike his own, but all the same exited his mouth, told Fleur to go to the others. He leaned into the headboard watching guiltily over Hermione. Fleur lingered in the door way and saw the look in his eyes, and thought to at least put him out of his misery a little. Quietly she told him that Hermione would be out for a while, that he ought to rest himself. He wouldn't hear any of it. His head swiveled in her direction and gave a blank stare, meaning his response was a simple no. She sighed and left. When he heard her recede down the stairs and outside he strode to the door and closed it deftly.

Making his way back to the bed, he fell in a broken heap onto the carpet and propped his knees up so he sat, back hunched and head hung low to his chest for her judgment. He was stirred by a sound, but it was only the shallow exhale of the patient. He pushed off onto his knees to look closer. She had been cleaned up and her old dirty clothes were in the pile on the floor told him Fleur had changed her into something else, a dressing gown perhaps, she was snugly tucked in as well. From afar she could have almost passed for peaceful, but definitely did not look natural. When asleep in the tent, Hermione usually curled into a protective little ball, completely engulfed in the covers. Here she lay stiff like a board the duvet tucked up to her chest and her arms limp t her side over the bedspread.

Speaking of unnatural, the gash under her chin, and her bloodless expression did not help quell Ron's worry either. Fleur had bandaged her neck, but the offending wound had already soiled it. Ron suspected it must be cursed to withstand healing; there had to have been a reason Belletrix was so fond of that silver knife. Just the thought of that croon and what she'd done had Ron's hands tense with the magic welled inside of him that he wish he could use to punish her.

The cuts and scrapes had been removed from Hermione's face, along with its color too. Pale and sick, the only shade he was disappointed to find was in the dark and tired bags under Hermione's eyes. Even her lips were dull and cracked; a very foreboding quality to someone who looked at them as often as Ron did daily.

Her hair was a rat's nest of frizz, something that could have been reminiscent of their younger years together; however the drying blood and shards of crystal from the chandelier had a sobering effect on any memories of those innocent times.

Just sitting there next to her, Ron could feel the energy of the curses she'd encountered radiating out of her, she nearly vibrated with the pain that probably still rattled her bones.

Uselessly, he looked for something to do for her, still wishing to amend the harm he'd caused her. Finally, he settled on the only to do, hold her uncovered hand, which was bandaged around the wrist, more guilt coursed through him, knowing full well he'd probably damaged it when he dragged her out from under that wreckage of crystal and brass. Gently he covered her up-facing palm with his, and the rough and callused terrain of his hand was met with the soothing warmth of hers. Unfortunately, her face did not reflect what he felt. That small window of relief gone, he shuddered in shame, and hung his head low enough to rest heavily into the edge of the bed near Hermione's shoulder. Silently he begged her forgiveness, and cursed himself in blame. He didn't even notice the fingers curl around his hand, or the eyes that opened to a squint.

"Ron?" Her voice sounded in the soft silence of the room, it was small and sick from screaming, tired but also lilted on the edge of a sob, "Where are we? What happened, where's Harry?" she asked frantically darting her eyes around the room, her breathing non-existent moments ago, now steadily increased to near hyperventilation. At that very moment he could have actually wept in relief, but he knew he had to stay grounded for her.

He swallowed his excitement, held on more securely to her hand and said in what he hoped was a deep safe whisper, "Calm down, everything's fine. We're at Bill and Fleurs'. Everyone's okay." He hoped anyway, remembering the scream Harry let out upon their arrival. "What about you? How are you feeling?" he shifted attention on her.

"Good," she said with labored calm, she tried to adjust her shoulders for a more comfortable position, but shuddered lightly as her body resisted, "It hurts..."

"That's what happens when a chandelier lands on top of you," Ron mumbled not really intending for her to hear the words, but her ears had not been damaged at all it would appear.

"WHAT?"

Ron sighed and resigned to tell her exactly what happened.

"Yeah, you were passed out by then, but Dobby came to help us out, and well you know him-he's got the best intentions, but…" he smoothed out a bit of her hair and plucked a shard of crystal out of the frizz, to show her, "There was a bit of a scuffle after that, and I pulled you out, I'm pretty sure I did this," He lifted their joined hands to present to her the broken wrist on the mends, "Sorry," He mumbled in apology.

"You saved me?" She asked in a small voice, that was ambiguous to Ron whether she was happy or upset over the detail.

"Dobby saved us, strictly speaking," Ron muttered for clarification, if indeed she was angry at the idea of her owing her life to him (speaking highly of a house elf would surely put him in her good graces as well). She tried to nod her understanding on her pillow but the bandaged gash was in the way and she winced at the motion, "Careful," he said in response to her pain, and supporting her cheek with his unoccupied hand, he helped her head settle back into the pillow. It lingered for just a while longer than needed, and he looked at her pathetically, and she looked back to him determined to hide the aches that filled her. They went silent for some time after that. Moments ago he had so much to say, so much to make clear, to tell, and to promise. Now he could barely muster up a syllable. Aching and tired he pulled his feet out from under him to sit with his back to the bed side, but still able to keep hold of that hand.

"Ron?" Her graveled voice called him softly again.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry…" Ron's ears perked up at this. Was the girl delirious? She hardly ever apologized, even if she had done something to merit it, and she certainly never apologized to him. He twisted back to face her again.

"For what?"

"For hating you all this time."

"Oh…don't be, you had every right to-"

"No, no, I didn't. And I never wanted to hate you, I just got so angry-when you left- and I can't very well yell at Harry," She attempted to cough out a feeble laugh,but tears began to form on the rims of her eyes, "Please forgive me," her shaken voice nearly squeaked.

"Forgive _you?_" Ron repeated incredulously, "Hermione, you don't even need me, why would you need my forgiveness?"

"Don't need you? What kind of idea is that?" Hermione's tired brow furrowed and she wheezed in shock, "Ron, you are one of the most important people in my life, you've always been," she said with deadening seriousness, "You are my best friend, and I've been terrified to lose you from day one." Looking him in the eye seemed to have been to much and she averted her gaze to the ceiling, "When you left, I thought you may as well be dead. And the worst part was that you left hating me- me and Harry. I could barely live with myself after that, thinking of how I pushed you away. And the thought of you dying hating me made me sick. But since you came back I've done nothing but hate you for just that reason…And now more than ever I'm so grateful for you." She mustered up the courage to bring her eyes back onto his, "We may never come back from this, Ron. And if we don't, I just want you to know I could never hate you, I love you."

"Hermione, you're tired and rambling I-"

"I've never been more sure of myself in my life, Ronald." She scolded him and she blinked in and out of woozy sleep, but forced her eyes to open wide to prove her point, "I do."

She was most certainly delirious, Ron thought. But she was waiting for some response from him and he'd very likely never get the opportunity to say words like this again.

"I love you too, Hermione," He said. She let out the breath she had been holding, "And I never hated you, either. I told you before, my leaving wasn't your fault, all I ever wanted from the moment I left was be back with you guys. And this was without a doubt the most terrifying night of my life, because of how close I came to to losing you, but it's only made me more certain that the only place I ever want to be is with you…"

Faint and brief as it was Ron could have sworn he saw a pink blush light up Hermione's cheeks. Either over taken by fatigue, or lulled by his words she fell asleep under his watch. The color put the smallest glow back to her face. He'd missed that face.

That's it More Missing Moment Mush, Hopefully it's good mush...Like mashed potatoes! I'll never know if YOU don't tell me, so Please leave your comments. They make me happy. :)


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